The Amazing Imagination of Prince Fiyero Tiggular
by phoenixbird777
Summary: Take a peek inside the mind and imagination of young Prince Fiyero Tiggular.  Yes, he has an imagination, and a strong one at that, but don't tell anyone, he'll set his pet shark with laser vision on you. Drabble collection. Higher rated drabbles marked.
1. School Days

**A/n: This is a collection of Fiyero memoirs, the result of his over active imagination (Yes, he has an imagination, but don't tell anyone)**

I reached out my hand, feeling the cool water trickle and play upon my fingertips. I laughed with the rushing wind that caressed my face. The autumn leaves at my feet whispered my name excitedly. I scooped one up into my hand, holding it to my ear.

"MR. TIGGULAR!" It screeched suddenly. I winced as the leaves hushed and disappeared, the wind ceased, the water ran dry. I gazed up at the mountain I like to call my Logification teacher. "Answer to problem number five?" I frowned as ropes leaped to life, binding me to my desk. I bright light burned holes into my eyes as I blinked in pain. My teacher was suddenly dressed in a dark suit and shades. He held a revolver to my head. "Answer the question, Mr. Tiggular."

"NEVER!" I shouted as I burst forward, tearing the ropes that bound me. I shot my arm out and launched the nearest item, my pen, into his eye. He howled with rage as I dashed from the room, making my escape.

I heard my wounded captor shout for backup as other minions appeared. Of course! They all worked for the evil Prince Pal, my arch nemesis. Drat. I shall evade them, for I am Prince Tiggular, undercover agent and superhero with a pet man eating shark! With laser vision! I can not be conta- I felt a firm hand, cold as ice, on my shoulder. I was wheeled around to find none other than my arch enemy glaring coldly down at me. He scowled wickedly as he growled, "You're in big trouble, young man"

**If you don't review, Fiyero might set his pet man eating shark on you.**


	2. Achluophobia

**A/n: There was some confusion to this story. I'd like to remind y'all that these are drabbles... Sorry to those who were awaiting the continuance of the last chapter. **** I thought that Fiyero has some poetry in him somewhere... He's so poetic in the musical. Sorry, this doesn't rhyme, I don't really like rhyming poetry...**

I blink once,

an hour passes.

I blink twice,

hardly a second has gone by

The silence creeps into my ears, whispering.

I blink thrice.

Out of the darkness,

faces,

twisted and disfigured,

stare back.

Eyes darting back and forth,

Their blood stained hands reach forward.

I cover my face,

but you can't hide from imagination.

Are you afraid of the dark?

**A/n: I am!**

**Review?**


	3. An Ode to Haikus

**A/n: TREES!**

**Disclaimer: (Repeat)**

**A/n: Haikus! They're so fun!**

**I could write them all day long!**

**But... that'd be stupid.**

**Spring**

Blossoms, fruits and blooms

Nature wears her Sunday best

To herald new life

**Summer**

Branches stretch skywark

Singing praise in the warm breeze

Singing praise to life

**Autumn**

Singing farewell hymns,

Leaves drop, whispering "adieu"

As the end creeps forth

**Winter**

Moaning in the wind,

Skeletal arms grope skyward

Begging for sunlight

**Haikus**

My ode to haikus

I can't stand to write poetry

I feel like a geek

~Fiyero Tiggular

**A/n: I haven't gotten to Shiz era yet... XD So keep your pants on, Okay? ;) lots of Fiyerba to come... Naturally... It's poetry and drabbles!**

**Review?**


	4. First is the Worst

**A/n: Okay, this is the one you have to watch out for. **

**WARNING!: HIGHER RATING THAN PREVIOUS STORIES FOR THIS PARTICULAR DRABBLE! DON'T ALLOW ANY SMALL DOGS WITH CHILDRE- NO, SMALL CHILDREN... SOMETHING. IT'S ONLY ONE SENTENCE ISSUE, BUT STILL...**

***Disclaimer* Don't own it.**

My first kiss?

Kindergarten, Lilianna Fayere

My first date?

Third grade, Jayranna Liguard

My first dance?

Fourth grade, Wisteria Willowes

My first fan club?

Sixth grade, Fallen for Fiyero

My first time in bed?

Seventh grade, Moora Drife

My first _love?_

I'll get back to you.

**A/n: I know, that was a bit different for me, but I write these late at night, when my mind wanders. All of them. :D**


	5. Masquerade

**A/n: I think the next few are going to be a bit heavier, but then I have some humorous ideas, too. Again, I post every Saturday! Like a habit, but not. To the readers, a lot of these stories are extended metaphors. My favorite, involved in a lot of my writing, is comparing Fiyero's hiding his feelings to a mask. **

**These stories aren't meant to be taken literally. They're like abstract paintings, don't look at them too hard or you'll explode. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own it.**

Anger boils inside me as I feel the urge to break something, make it hurt or feel as broken and incomplete as I do.

I claw frantically at the mask plastered to my face, but it is too late. The mask of what I have become is fused, glued to my face by pretension, disfiguring who I am. Behind it lies my imagination, my sensitivity and even my fear.

When I glance at my reflection, I see a stranger. Staring back at me from the death cold mirror are two large, frightened eyes that I claim as mine. But they are set in the face of a monster, who consumes me slowly from the inside out.

I long to feel the weight and tension of the mask lifted, but then, without this mask of horror, I am nothing. I have no power, no charm, no women throwing themselves at my feet. But is that really what makes me happy? Or maybe this is why I train myself not to think? For when I do, it brings unhappiness.

"Fiyero?"

Slowly, my hands drop from my face as I gaze into the mirror. I give the monster which stares back a forced smile. Something is wrong. Tenderly, I bring my hands up and readjust the mask.

"Coming, Nikahara"

**A/n: I can't wait for the nest chapter, I might have to post early... I'm very excited! These next two including this one are pretty heavy, but I have a lot of humor planned in the future.**

**Review?**

**Por Favor? **


	6. Monster

**A/n: Sorry this is a day late! I had UIL to fail Saturday. I did horribly, thanks! ElphabaROCKS and areyoufeelingwicked both placed however. I placed in nonfiction writing. ANYWAY! This is the last heavy one before some humor! So hang in there!**

The darkness pressed in on me, although the room was well lit. The shadows closed in, tearing up my soul and suffocating me. I struggle for breath. I never knew how life could smother you like this... grinding you into nothing, suffocating you, beating the light from your eyes, until all you see... Is can't kill you, but it _can _torture.

I attempt in vain to rip the masks from my skin. The masks, however, have become part of me, fused into my skin, and disfiguring me. I forget, over time, where the masks end and where I... begin. More masks are added, and eventually, completely stifle the person I once was.

The monster I have become is unfamiliar, and alien. Yet, I can not break free from its firm grasp. I attempt to free myself through tears, but they only blister my skin.

Nothing is real anymore, and nothing is sacred.

I can't remember who I was, what feelings are true, which were, and what really happened. Memories are stolen from me, and altered.

Through little lies, I become disfigured, mutated, and deformed. I can't even tell what emotions I feel. Anger and sadness blend.

Happiness? Is there such a thing? Or is it simply another part of the masquerade of my world? I believe I do feel this, but it wears off. Fun with friends must end, and the second it's over, I feel this pain.

The jarring pain, along with the question,_ Who am I?_ The pain rips through my chest, wounding me. Is this pain real? or is it imagined? I have no idea. I darkly curl into myself and think of my friend, who feels the only real thing. I know who he is. He is my brother. This thought holds me to earth, to my life. And he keeps me...

from ending mine

**I thought of the brother as a servant or close friend, who knows? Unleash your imagination.**


	7. Bet Your Lawnmower That Tomorrow

**A/n: Enjoy!**

* * *

**Name:**_ Fiyero Tiggular_

**Classwork Objective- Use the following words in a short story: Flashlight, hurricane and lawnmower.**

It was a dark and stormy night. Well, maybe not so dark because it was raining flashlights. The sky was ablaze with the light of the storm. A hurricane, they called it. Looking out of my dirty window, I watched light fall from the sky. It looked like the stars were crashing from the heavens Tornadoes ripped around my seaside with personal servants and an Olympic swimming pool, in which my pet shark swam nervously. His laser vision eyes glowed like live embers.

I called my personal team of ninjas to my aid, but before they could assist me, the roof was torn from its nails. With no protection, the ninjas sailed from their location, sucked upward. Their swords blinked goodbye in the flash light like lighthouse beacons.

Flashlights poured in by the thousands, and my mind reeled. As their weight crushed me, I felt a small unflashlightlike bar. I grabbed it and pulled with all my might to fine I held a weed whacker in my hand. I revved up the lawnmower and began smashing the lights to smithereens. I was kicking bulb.

I held the device above me like an umbrella until-

* * *

My teacher looked up from my paper skeptically. "What?" I asked, moderately annoyed. I was rather proud of my work, thank you very much.

"Where's the rest of your assignment?" She asked through her spectacles. My stomach jumped into the abyss of horror. I forgot to finish my assignment.

"My uh, pet shark shot it with his laser vision"

I wonder how many of my ninjas it will take to get out of this detention.

**A/n: I'm sorry this one was kind of lame, but I've been having some technical difficulties, and my muse is hiding from me.**

**Review?**


	8. Colors Fade to Grey

**A/n: I'm so sorry guys! These past few weeks have given me technical difficulties with posting and publishing. And to top it all off, I lost the spiral I write in!**

I sit here by the dim candle light,

with no sound but the deafening tick

of the grandfather clock.

_Tick, tick, tick._

And no comfort in this cold,

colorless world.

It is as if I am trapped within the bounds

of an old black and white photograph.

The people are all the same,

their faces blur to mix in,

no different than the others.

Their voices have no defining quality

from the droning of the others.

I look at myself and realize

I am one of them.

I have nothing to myself.

And when the day is done,

I have nothing to be proud of.

By the second,

my hands grow withered,

my hair turns a dull grey.

My skin folds in upon its self.

And with my exterior fading,

turning colorless,

withering and collapsing,

along with it is my soul.

I am nothing but an old photograph in which there is no color.

No music.

_Tick, tick, tick_

Every silence is deafening,

and every tick

shatters the silence

fragile as glass,

with mind blowing impact.

I realize,

with every tick,

that I will die alone

in this colorless world.

Of colorless people.

Who know nothing,

and wish to know nothing.

We all will die.

We all leave colorless lives.

Except _her._

My mind whispers her name to me.

For once,

the words become music

the name

is a waltz,

soft and slow

with a fiery finish.

In the sea of grey,

she is a beacon of color.

Colorless voices whisper in distaste,

_She is not one of us._

But this matters not,

for sometimes all we need,

is a little splash of color.

**A/n: I'm sorry, you guys. This isn't what I promised, I lost my spiral! I'll look for it, and until then, I'll see you next weekend!**

**Review?**


	9. No Day But Today

**A/n: I don't really know where this came from... Just kind of popped up at me.**

Today I will not care how I dress.

I will wear mismatched clothes

and not comb my hair.

My shoes will not match,

and I will wear stripes with polka dots.

Today, I will not watch what I eat.

I will eat cake for breakfast

with pink icing.

I will mix pink lemonade

and hand it out in the hall.

Today, I will do my best.

I will study for the Logic test next week,

and ace the History exam.

Today, I live for now.

I will sing like no one is listening,

I will dance like no one is watching,

I live like I'll die tomorrow

and dream like I'll live forever.

And love like it will never hurt.

Today's the day I am myself.

The day I shed the masks.

I will apologize to the boy with the crooked arm,

I will give my fortune away.

Today I kiss the girl I love,

without fear.

Today, I live for now.

Well,

maybe tomorrow.

**A/n: I don't really have a note for this one.**

**Review?**


	10. Pen and Ink

**A/n: Thanks for the feedback, guys! This chapter's dedicated to ElphabaROCKS and FaeTheDevoutScholar for all the support I get from them.  
Back to Fiyero! I might do a Yellow Brick Road series for a while.**

My quill glides over the plains of parchment,

softly scratching out rivers of ink.

The sound of the quill on paper whispers my name,

the rustle of sheets replies in hushed tones.

Lines of black form strands of hair,

ruffled softly by an unseen breeze.

Untouched,

unfixed.

Next the face,

angular,

Yet soft.

The jaw gives a hint of stubborness.

The neck,

smooth as silk,

follows.

Flawlessly perfect,

Stark white on parchment.

The lips

Soft and beautiful.

Like rose petals.

Their edge twists into a teasing smile.

Roses have thorns.

The nose and cheeks,

carefully etched in shadow.

The eyebrows

One hitched up in a questioning look,

Challenging.

And lastly,

The finishing touch.

The eyes.

The ink makes them look deep and black.

Intelligent,

sparkling,

stunning.

With feist and fire.

Untamed and wild.

I hold up the portrait.

Black lines of shadow against ivory white.

I study every etch.

I love every inch of her.

A boy comes up.

"Wow"

He gasps.

"She's stunning. Who is she?"

I smile.

"You'd never guess"

**A/n: Now you see why it was so important to make it black and white. ;)**

**Review?**


	11. Remembering

**A/n: I don't own Wicked, or Maya Angelou's Remembering. I PROMISE TO PUT A HUMOR ONE IN SOON! CROSS MY HEART!**

_Soft grey ghosts crawl up my sleeve_  
_to peer into my eyes_

I stand alone, wandering with little of my mind remaining.

I see figures before my clothed body. A short, figure with perfect light hair dances before me. Her smile is large, but her eyes betray her. She places her hand on my forearm and rolls her eyes up my arm to meet my clothed face. Her eyes search mine, so familiar, yet so distant. She gives a look of desperation before slowly fading away. Her eyes seemed to plead for my identity as she disintegrated into nothing.

_while I within deny their threats_  
_and answer them with lies._

The next vision was more than torture. A tall, dark image approached me, mist curling off their face. Long dark strands of fog drift behind the shade and I feel my heart stop beating. Slowly, she came nearer. Her long fingers tried to entwine with mine, but alas, they were not material and fell through. I felt nothing to her touch. The pain and despair in her dark eyes caused me to sob uncontrollably. She shook her head and placed a finger of mist in front of my lips. Hush, she mouthed. I have little time.

_Mushlike memories perform_  
_a ritual on my lips_

Her eyes sparkled as she placed her hand over my heart, but I felt nothing. She then slowly moved her hand back to her own heart. I fought back a sob. I couldn't stop myself from weeping as the form slowly dissolved. Before completely disintegrating, she gave me a smile, which faded away with the rest of my body.

_I lie in stolid hopelessness_  
_and they lay my soul in strips._

I never knew how much love could hurt. Especially when those others move on,

and leave you behind.

**A/n: What do you think? Burn it? Could you tell who I was talking about? I said no character names, so I'm hoping I got the point across. ****I'm unsure about this one, because I've been procrastinating one piece for a few weeks now. I might put it in next week. **

**Maybe so.**

**Maybe not.**

**Review?**


	12. Watch Me

**A/n: I'm stupid, and lost this chapter again, so here's another one to buy me time and rewrite it. Sorry y'all! I'll get humor in soon, 'cause this is marked as humor.**

Dream.

Dream to look you in the eyes

to hold your hand

to whisper softly in your ear

to touch you

to hold you near

to say "I do"

till death do we part.

And love you deeply

To love you, and only you.

With all my heart.

Now watch me.

Watch her hand in mine

my words in her ear.

Watch me touch her

kiss her

hold her.

stroke her blonde hair

Watch me say "I do

To have and to hold

'till death do we part.

Watch me shatter your heart.

And say the words that bind us.

Bind us?

What am I doing?

Watch me run from her

and take your hand

kiss you

hold you

make your dreams come true

I'll say "I do"

Whatever you ask,

consider it done.

To have and to hold

'till death do we-

No.

'till death and beyond.

Always and forever.

**A/n: Geez, that was a rough ending. Tell me what you guys want to see! More from when he was a boy? Shiz-era? Just say the word!**


	13. The Invisible Boy

**A/n: Thanks to all the oil suggestions! Here it is! Humor again! It's kind of silly, but that's Fiyero as a kid... This isn't oil me writing, it's supposed to be Fiyero writing in third person.**

Fiyero wakes up to find himself invisible. His skin has suddenly ceased to reflect light! He gives a hearty chuckle. When life gives you lemons, make lemonade.

The (finest, greatest, and most handsome) Prince glanced in the mirror to see only his pajamas; floating in mid air. _If I remove my garments_, the prince thought, _I shall become completely transparent._ Slowly, Fiyero lifted off his shirt, and tossed it upon the floor. Soon, a pile of scarlet cloth lay crumpled upon the spotless marble floor. The prince kicked the evidence under the nearest piece of furniture to begin his mission.

The way down to the kitchen was painfully easy, for he had not crossed a soul. He entered his destined room with ease, for the cook and maids had the day off. Fiyero crept up to the counter and hauled himself atop it. He stretched for the handle of the cabinet with some difficulty, due to his short stature. But soon the coveted cookie jar was clutched safely in his arms.

Prince Fiyero indulged himself with chocolate delight. Each confection was a burst of sweetness in his mouth that spread warmth in his stomach. The room around him blurred and faded. The only things left were the cookie jar and his invisible bod-"_Fiyero!_" His thought was interrupted by a shriek._ "What in the name of Lurine are you doing on the counter unclothed?"_

**A/n: I don't own Calvin and Hobbes. :) Hope you liked it. Any more requests?**


	14. Rage

**A/n: Sorry about the delay. Camp... :)**

Rage.

Spreading, Scalding, Seeping, Blinding.

A wildfire that burns within my veins.

My fists clench, as if this will cease the roaring in my ears.

The war drums pounding in my chest.

The screaming in my mind.

This body,

is not my own.

It acts out, unbeckoned, uncalled for.

I scream,

shattering the fragile silence around me

into shards of glass.

Tears.

Salty as blood, drip slowly,

Oh! So slowly down my cheeks.

The shame.

What did they do to deserve this?

Why do I do this to them?

Pain.

Red marks on my leg.

Razors blades on my back.

Make it stop, Make it stop!

Why do I do this to myself?

Blood.

Salty, metallic.

Red as my rage.

Hot as my fury.

It all stops.

Frozen.

Breath, fluttering in and out.

Over my bitten lips.

Fingernail marks.

Salt in my mouth.

A soft whisper of the past.

Balance regained,

breath chased down and captured.

The night clears to day.

I can see too clearly my battered body.

No knock on the door.

Alone.

Shadows within me flutter restlessly.

Longing for shelter.

For warm arms to hold me.

But nothing comes.

Shivers stumble down my spine.

The darkness is blinding.

The silence is deafening.

The question is devastating

as it runs frantic laps in my mind,

Why?

**A/n: I promise some better ones next week **


	15. Silence

**_A/n: End of school is nearing, which is why things have been hard to post. I'll be back on track this summer. My apologies for the delay._**

Suddenly,  
It all explodes into nothingness.  
Life flitting with the darkness so blinding.  
Encompassing everything with a thick, suffocating canvas.  
No ray of light enters my pupils. Not a sound wave reaches my ears.  
Cadavers of what once were trust, faith and hope lie without breath.  
Eternally silenced hearts rotting within their chest

Soundless,  
Heartless,  
Attacking my mind.  
Tearing apart every, last,  
Thought that dares the courage to  
Enter the abyss of my mind; left in  
Ruins.  
Shards scattered unceremoniously upon the floor.

My  
Individuality  
Now  
Dies,  
Splintered into nothing.

_Who am I?_

**_A/n: -Phoenixbird777_**


	16. Apples and Oranges

**A/n: I'm really sorry guys. Things just have been busy.**

Does the wolf become a whippet?

Is brown the same as blue?

Are heels the same as boots?

Am I the same as you?

Is fire the same as snow?

As they dance within their eyes?

Are need and want alike?

Is truth the same as lies?

Is venom the same as sugar?

Is light the same as dark,

By the time the day is through?

Is an eagle like a lark?

Can pink be the same as green?

Or bubbles like a broom?

Or blonde a brunette?

Will my destiny become my doom?

Can an angel be a demon?

Or destiny be assigned?

Will I stay and accept my "fate"?

Or will I lose my mind?


	17. All the Lonely People

**A/n: If anyone has any ideas for young Fiyero, I'm at a desperate point... This one's about those around Fiyero. I really need ideas, guys. Especailly because school's soon to end, which means I'll be writing a lot more.**

Ahh, look at all the lonely people.**  
**All the faces,  
Stained with tears.  
Blank and expressionless  
Worn and crumbling  
From years of sorrow.  
Where do they all come from?  
You reach out,  
they disintegrate.  
Resisting guidance.  
No help.  
No hope.  
How do you help the helpless?  
Wearing faces  
kept in jars by the door.  
A masquerade  
of false hope  
of lost dreams  
of empty lives.  
All the lonely people...  
Where do they all belong?**  
**


	18. Scritch scritch scritch

**A/n: I JUST got a humor idea, and thanks for the ideas, FaeTheDevoutScholar and SmileYou'reWICKED. I really appreciate it, and will use them! If anyone else has any more humor ideas, that would be amazing! Thanks everyone! **

Scritchscritchscritch. Young Fiyero's eyebrows furrowed. What could possibly cause this intense sensation atop his skull? His fingernails raked further, attempting in vain to rid me of the itchiness. Moaning, he crossed his palace to the kitchen.

"Mommy?" He called, "I'm itchy"

"Is that so?" The queen asked absently, barely tearing her eyes from the book.

"Yes," The boy whined. The mother ignored him, dismissing him with an "hmmm" utterance. The little prince then resolved to take care of his own problem.

He wanted to comb his hair, to feel the bristles scratch his scalp. He knew this must be a sign of insanity. He needed... A band aid.

The layer of band aids didn't help any. In fact, they simply melted under the Vinkun sun. Fiyero soon discovered that it was much easier to apply the sticky bandages than remove them. He needed something to grease them off. Aggravated, the child ran to the kitchen for something wet. He found the cabinet of spices, toppings and liquids. His hand found a bottle marked _Lemon Juice, _and he applied it to his helmet of flesh colored strips.

The juice seeped under, but did little to loosen anything. His scalp seemed to crawl, and Fiyero scratched madly to find that the band aids prevented him from scratching. The prince became all the more frantic. He poured on hot sauce, which dripped in his eye. Screaming, he tried applying vinegar. His head was now drenched. Perhaps he needed to dry it before trying something else. He knew talcum powder would do the trick, and luckily, there was a vial of white powder stored in the cooking supply cabinet.

However, Fiyero found that when applied, the white powder fizzed madly. Crying, the boy ran to his mother, a sticky, fizzy, oily mess.

"DEAR OZ, YERO!"

**A/n: Sorry! That wasn't as funny as planned! I'll write a funnier one soon. Like, maybe, the ones that were _sent in._ I'm so lame. I'll be funnier next time. PROMISE!**


	19. Scarecrow

**A/n: Ahh! I had like, no time to write this week! I'm really sorry. Let me see what I can dig up... **

Squint,

Eye,

Poke,

RUN FAR AWAY!

Look up from hiding,

Peer over the grass,

Throw rock,

Squint,

Watch.

Tip-toe forward,

Tug, tug.

pull, pull,

Yank, yank!

Squint,

"Are you dead?"

" "

* * *

"Mommy?"

"Yes?"

"There's a man out in the field, he's awful limp and doesn't say much. Is he dead?"

"What do you mean, honey?"

"The man out in the field."

"The farmer?"

"No, the man that stands up on that funny pole all day long. I bet his arms get awful sore"

"Oh, honey, that's the scarecrow. He doesn't ever leave to make sure the crows don't eat his crops"

"Thanks, Mommy"

* * *

Sneak,

Poke,

Tug, tug, tug

"Mr. Scarecrow?"

Wind whistles.

Cornstalks rustle.

"Mr. Scarecrow Sir?"

Silence stirs.

"I brought you some peanut butter sandwiches for you to eat. I bet you get terribly hungry"

Clothen hand sways in the wind.

"Sir? Don't you want one?"

Straw filled head sways sideways beneath the breeze.

"No? Well, I'll leave them right here for ya, sir. I also brought you a canteen. I'll just sling that around your waist"

* * *

As I went to check on my crops, I noticed a figure looming over, well, below, actually, my scarecrow. Damn teenagers, dismantling my property.

I waded my way through the golden field quickly, but not fast enough to catch the hoodlum.

Everything looked exactly as it had before, except a plate of crumbs lay next to the post of the scarecrow, an empty canteen hung at his side.

And had that smile always been stitched on his face?

**A/n: Sorry! I tried!**


	20. Sleeping on the Job

**A/n: I'm sorry about the delay. I know this is going to be a short one... I lost my last copy. **

The midsummer haze was enough to make even the strongest of the Vinkun guards want to melt into a puddle of liquid. The cicada's chirping could have lulled any of those guards right into a deep slumber.

Even the strongest.

Of course, that strongest guard would be too busy snoring to notice that flash of black against the orange twilight of sunset. He wouldn't have ever caught the figure crouch silently behind the carved stone wall as the sun lumbered groggily towards the horizon.

It was obvious that even the strongest, most capable human would have fallen subject to the hypnotic, beautiful and almost seductive sound of the night slipping in to replace the piercing day.

Unless, that is, you were that black figure. Blended so well into the night, you may as well not be there. So silent, even the wide-eyed rabbits find themselves surprised by the closeness of your presence.

No one could have possibly felt the light fingers disarm you, even the most aware, lulled by the night, would not have heard the soft glop as oil hit the floor, the inaudible rustle of black feathers. Even the sharpest couldn't have felt the water around their feet, or the freezing temperatures of the desert night take their silent toll.

Not one of the guards could possibly have seen that shadow of a man slip into the deepest tree branch. It was strenuous to be able to see that wicked glint of brass metal.

It was as if he had not existed.

As the dawn returned to twilight, there stands a period of silence, where the crickets halt their chirp, the birds rest the ballad of their sweet song. The land crackles with nothingness, and your breath, surrounded by the air seems more fragile than a sheet of glass. The world seems to stop to draw in its breath before starting the day anew.

No one saw him, but he was all too audible as the trumpet shattered the windows of morning. It seemed as if the world had been startled to life. Birds squawked with alarm as they took flight from their roosts with panic.

From afar, the invisible man watched as the most dignified of the guards fell prey to him. First starting awake, realizing his feet were frozen into pails. He was so distracted attempting to escape, he did not spot the oil slick he backed into. Sliding, the bravest of the men slid headfirst into a mound of black feathers. He sat there on his backside, looking as disoriented as a small child, and the shadowed man almost felt a twinge of regret as the guard's waist was hauled upward by a rope that lay around him.

The shadowed man slid down from his rest and observed amusedly as a small crowd began to form, pointing and laughing at the feathered man hanging from a tree.

The guard, now woken from his drowsy stupor in quite an unusual manner, vowed never again shall he sleep on the job.

Twenty feet away, a blue eyed shadow snickered softly.


	21. Farewell

**A/n:** You guys, this is officially the end of this story. For a while, I may leave the Wicked fandom. I've been sucked into the Rent fandom, and have a lot of ideas cooking for them. I do, in fact have a Wicked crossover I might post, but no one knows how long it might be.

Of course, this isn't a final farewell. I'll still return back here occasionally to post a one shot or two. You may find me floating around and about, reading stories, possibly reviewing.

I thank each and every one of you for reading this. I've been terribly lucky to write with you, and it's been a pleasure.

If you want to, I of course will still beta anything you send me.

Thank you,

Phoenixbird777

(Phoenix)


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